It Shouldn't Be This Way
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Shawn Hunter had always lead a different life from other boys. His father, for one, always made him different. But why does he have to be THIS different? Child Abuse
1. Coming Home

**I don't own Boy Meets World (period)**

Shawn was happy.

His life with John was okay. He wished he was with his real father, but Mr. Turner was a good guy. Shawn knew that he would always have a home with him.

Cory was sill the best friend he always was. Topanga, as his best friend's best girl friend, was okay.

His life was pretty near perfect. Almost Heaven.

Then it became a living hell.

* * *

"Shawny, you coming for dinner tonight?" Cory called across the hallway, like he'd done every other day for three years.

"Sure Cor, see you latter." Shawn hoisted the heavy back pack onto his shoulders and started down the hallway, towards his home.

As soon as he walked in the door, Shawn knew something was different. He put his backpack down gently and switched on the lights. The smell of alcohol was so strong it was nausiating. He had no idea where the smell was coming from. Shawn walked across the room and pulled a Coke out of the refrigerator. He dropped it as soon as he turned around.

Shawn's father was standing there, a beer bottle in hand. His clothes were torn and dirty and his words came out slurred. "Come here, Shawny Boy."

Shawn backed away. "No...you're drunk. Stay away from me!" Panic snuck into his voice. Shawnn remembered what had happened the last time his father was drunk.

"I said **get over here!**" Chet Hunter's words were slow but deafiningly loud. Shawn winced at the sound but continued to back away. His hip struck the counter.Shawn couldn't move back any further.

His father started advancing. Slow, deliberate steps, never taking his eyes away from Shawn's face. Those eyes were bright and-and hungry looking.

"You'll do what I say, boy." Chet Hunter raised his hand and brought it down hard on Shawn's face. Shawn bit back a scream.

"You'll learn discpline, boy, if I have to teach you it all day."

His hand came down again and again. Shawn covered his face with his hands and tried to fight him off. Chet was at least three times heavier and a whole lot bigger then he was. Eventually, he didn't even feel it anymore. He was only dully aware of the spots creeping into his vision. He didn't remember passing out afterwards.

Or maybe he didn't want to.

* * *

My motto-no reviews, no chapter. 


	2. Getting Help

**I own it not.**

Shawn awoke hours later to see Turner kneeling over him, worry sketched in every line of his face. Shawn started to raise himself onto his elbow, but John pushed him down.

"What happened?" The man asked, searching Shawn's face as if looking for clues.

Shawn looked at him for a moment, his guardian, teacher, and yes, even friend, and started to shake uncontrollably.

"Shhh..." Turner wrapped his arms around the trembling teenager, awkwardly patting his back. "You gotta talk about it, you know."

Shawn took a deep breath and carefully related the events of the evening. When he had finished, John looked as if he would like nothing better then to hit something.

"The bastard." John muttered. He got off the floor and paced the floor, occasionally letting out strings of profanity. After a few minutes of this, he reached into a cabinet above the sink and withdrew from it a first aid kit. John knelt beside Shawn, who was still lying on the floor, and did his best to cover most of the wounds. Once the worst of the damage had been taken care of, John helped Shawn up.

"So," Turner asked Shawn, talking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "What do you want to do?"

Without missing a beat, Shawn replied, "Talk to Cory."

* * *

Shawn sat on Cory's bed, looking at his friend and waiting for a reaction. He had just told Cory exactly what he had told Turner an hour earlier, and wanted something-anything-to happen. Something to show him what to do next.

"Shawn..." Cory sat next to Shawn and wrapped his arms around him. Shawn, who had never been the touchy-feely type, stiffened for a moment before allowing himself to sink into the embrace.

"You need to go to the police, they'll find your father. He'll go to jail for what he did." Cory said after pulling out of the hug.

Shawn ran his hand through his hair. "I know that's what I have to do, but I don't want to do it."

"Why?" asked Cory quietly. "Are you afraid of your father?"

"Cory, I've been afraid of my father for as long as I can remember. That's not it, though." Shawn paused, then added. "IthinkIwillbeblamedforwhathappened."

"What?" Cory asked, brows furrowed.

Shawn took a deep breath before repeating. "I think that the police will blame me for what happened."

Cory looked at Shawn and shook his head. "Shawny, your dad was wrong. He should have never hurt you. You didn't do anything wrong. "

Shawn looked down at the floor and frowned. "Then why do I feel like I did?"

* * *

Wow, this is like, long. Cool.

Peoples, review.

Happy Easter!


	3. You're Not a Wimp!

**I don't own it. Can't sue.**

Shawn sat on the couch, utterly exhausted. The police had already come through here, asking him so many questions his brain had felt like it would explode. Jonathan had come by at least three times, bringing medicine and bandages to put on Shawn's numerous cuts and bruises. Cory hadn't left Shawn's side since he had first told him what happened.

"You should go to sleep, Shawn. You deserve it. Plus, it's-" Cory glanced at his watch, "Four in the morning. You have to sleep, Shawny."

Shawn drew his legs up to his chest and sat there, staring into space. It was a long while before he finally spoke. "It was my dad, Cor. My own father did this to me."

"It's not like he hasn't done it before." Cory wanted to kick himself as soon as those words left his mouth. Sure, Chet had done this before. More times then he could count. But the last thing Shawn needed was to be reminded of that fact.

"Yeah, but before, he didn't hurt me like this. I never passed out before. He never hit me so hard I wanted to die just to make the pain stop. Maybe...maybe I'm a chicken. A wimp."

Cory was surprised that Shawn-tough, cool Shawn-was calling himself a wimp. "No Shawny, you're no wimp. In fact, you're one of the bravest people I've met. Remember in second grade when your dad broke your arm? You went to school for two days before Feeny finally found out and made you get that cast."

Shawn smiled slightly, remembering. Then his smile turned into a frown. "I had a hard time explaining that to Him. He was so upset..." Shawn shuddered, remembering the following events of that night.

Cory studied Shawn, taking in his ragged appearance. He had seen Shawn like this since they were toddlers, but that didn't mean that he was used to it. When Cory saw Shawn shudder, he put his arm around him,hugging Shawn like a brother. Because Shawn was his brother. Forever.

* * *

At the other end of the room, Jonathan Turner was talking to Mr. Feeny. "I'm glad you got here, Feeny. I don't think I would've stayed if you hadn't calmed me down. But God, I wanted to kill that bastard. Still do." 

Mr. Feeny nodded in agreement. "Yes, I have done this many a night, usually at the Matthews. The police never seem to be able to catch Chet Hunter, and this same ritual has happened time and time again." Feeny sighed. "I don't know how a boy his age can take it. I remember when he was younger, scrounging in the streets for food, looking for his next meal."

Turner nodded, "Yeah, I knew all that. I knew he neglected the kid, but nobody ever bothered to mention that he was violent." He sighed. "That kid really needs something stable in his life-something he can hold on to. His parents weren't much helped." Jonathan spat the last part out, as if it was a dirty taste in his mouth.

After a few moments, Turner continued. "I don't know what to do with the kid.I don't want to see him end up on the streets or in an orphanage or worse, like **this**" he looked over at Shawn, his many bruises clearly visible "ever again."

Mr. Feeny bowed his head sagely, "Where ther's a will, there's a way, Jonathan."

* * *

**Yeah, but is Turner _will_ing to do the _way_?**

I don't know, Mike, maybe you'll have to read the story for a change!

Happy Birthday (Come on, it has to be _somebody's _birthday out there!) and please review.


	4. Dreams and Reality

**I don't own this, okey-dokey?**

"_Shawn!" A drunken Chet Hunter screamed at a cowering Shawn. "You good for nothing piece of trash." His words were slurred together. His hand came up. Shawn saw it and cowered, knowing what it meant but not even dreaming of getting out of range. That would make the beating all the worse. He muffled a scream as he felt a broken beer bottle cut his face. He nearly yelled when he felt his legs be taken out from underneath him, making him fall on the cold, hard wood. Making the air escape from his lungs. Then, he watched in horror as he saw the terrifying face of his father was replaced by the face of Jonathan Turner. Now, the trailer park had faded into the familiar scene of the apartment. John was chasing him, screaming about how he was failing classes, and how he wasn't "good enough" for anything. As John raised a hand to strike Shawn, he woke up, screaming and thrashing wildly._

Shawn didn't realize he had been screaming. He hadn't realized he had been sleeping. In his mind, he, Shawn, had been placed back to just hours ago. Really been in front of his father. It was Cory's frightened face that brought him back to reality.

"Shawn?"

Shawn flinched away from Cory's outstretched hands instinctively, then forced his body to relax. Still, after two minutes, he was still tense. Still shivering. Still back in that kitchen.

Shawn managed to look up into Cory's hurt face and felt the pangs of guilt that he knew would come. How many times had he put Cory through this? Too many times.

"You want to tell me about it?" Cory's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

Shawn shrugged and got off the couch, pacing the now empty room, ignoring the rods of pain that seemed to stab every part of his body. He needed to be up. He needed to think.

The scene was so familiar. It brought back so many memories. An empty living room. Cory staying up with him all night. Shawn's first memory was being at the Matthews' when he was five with several bruised ribs and haunting memories.

"The dream. In it, there were so many things. I knew it happened tonight. My dad beating me. But-" Shawn paused before going on. "Turner was in it to. He was yelling at me. He was about to hit me." Shawn swallowed and turned away from Cory, not daring to look his friend in the eye.

"Is that what you think Shawn? That Turner will hurt you like your dad did? Because he won't. He loves you, man." Cory tried to make sense of this information in his own mind, while still making every effort to comfort Shawn.

"Why wouldn't he!" Shawn's voice was as loud as one's could be after sustaining so many injuries. "What make him any different from anybody else Cor? What?"

Cory shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying Shawn. You know Turner likes you. You're happier here then I've ever seen you." He pointed at the couch that Shawn had been sleeping on. "Now you need to get to sleep. Tomorrow-well, tomorrow is not a day you want to do on two hours rest."

Shawn looked for a second as if he would ignore Cory completely. What did Cory know anyway. Then exhaustion-sheer, undeniable exhaustion-overtook him. The last thing Shawn remembered from that night was mumbling, "Thanks, Cor." Just before he drifted to sleep.

Cory watched the rhythmic rise and fall of the thin blanket that covered Shawn until his own eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. He curled up on the chair, resting his head on top of Shawn's.

If anybody could have seen the two boys at that moment, they would have thought they were the happiest kids in the world. Both had fallen to sleep with smiles on their faces, despite what had just happened.

* * *

I thought this story needed a little Cory/Shawn time, because here on out, it's all gonna be Shawn/Turner. (nasty minded people out there, don't say anything!) Anyways, review!


	5. And Really Bad Eggs

**I don't, as of now, own Boy Meets World.That could change in the near future.**

Shawn opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to face the world. Not yet. Probably not ever.

But open up his eyes he did. He stared straight ahead, watching the sun creep slowly across the floor of the apartment, hearing nothing but the small creaks of the wood and Cory's light, steady breathing. He thought of all the people he would probably see in the next couple of hours.

More police officers, obviously. They'd want a full report, which he had not, in his state, been able to give them the previous night. He'd probably see Feeny, who had stopped in on him every other time his dad had...well, Shawn didn't want to think about it. Feeny always had had something for him, too, a toy car when he was younger, or homemade brownies, or maybe a book. Something to keep his mind off issues for a good half-hour.

He'd see the other Matthews. Morgan would probably give him a kiss and tell him that she would "try to make it all better, like mommy would." Mr. and Mrs. Matthews would hang back, inspecting him like they always did, to make sure that there were no lasting scars. The worst thing about this were their faces. They always looked so worried, like he was their own son, or something. Eric would come too, probably. Eric was probably better at cheering Shawn up then anybody, Cory included, because of his simple logic; you don't talk about it, nothing ever happened.

"But something _did_ happen." A small, voice came into Shawn's head, unbidden. "You know something did."

Shawn rolled over, trying to ignore the voice. He thought instead about Turner. He'd probably be up soon, looking for something to keep him busy. He'd avoid catching Shawn's eye, like he did whenever something came up that he couldn't fix. But then when Shawn turned around, he'd see Turner looking at him with a mixture of pity, pride, and sadness. It was this look that made Shawn love the man, though he couldn't explain why.

"He'll probably make eggs." Shawn thought suddenly, and once he thought that, he realized just how hungry he was. In all the chaos of the night before, he hadn't eaten a bit. That had to be fixed.

Cory woke up when Shawn started pulling out pans. "Whadya doin?" he asked groggily, eyeing the pans uneasily.

"Making an omelet, want to help?"

Together, the two of them managed to make something that sort of resembled an omelet and almost tasted like one. During the cooking, they talked about school, and girls, and football. Safe topics. Easy topics. Topics that neither of them were really thinking about.

They were halfway through their second helpings when Turner walked in, showered and dressed and looking much more "together" then Shawn and Cory combined, as they were both still dressed in their clothes from the day before, and Shawn's had blood on it. They all stared at one another for a moment, not knowing what to say. Then Shawn pointed to the counter. "Omelets." He said simply, then went back to eating and talking to Cory about the girl that sat in the back of their math class.

The doorbell rang as they were just clearing their plates, a police officer came in, carrying a clipboard.

And the day began.

* * *

I thought I'd take this story slow. It makes it better when I kill people.

Kidding! You people can't take jokes.

Review, or maybe I will kill somebody.

God, you people can't take jokes, can you?


	6. The Attack of the Maybes

**I own it not.**

Shawn was exhausted.

Not the kind of exhausted you get after winning a close basketball game. That was a good exhausted, it meant you got to actually _do_ something. No Shawn was so tired that he wanted to fall down dead.

First, there was the Matthews. Eric and Mrs. Matthew had gotten to the apartment just before the police. They were the ones that answered all the questions for him. Shawn just couldn't do it again.

Then Feeny was there, again. He brought chocolate. A bad move on his part, because whenever there was chocolate in the room, Shawn had to eat it. This strange behavior was mostly Feeny's fault. When Shawn was little, maybe only here or four, he had made the mistake of going on his preschool field trip. It was a trip o the beach, so naturally, Shawn wore his bathing suit.

That was he day that Shawn learned that his father was, for lack of a better word, different.

Feeny took Shawn to his house; because Shawn had made the mistake of letting it slip that he hadn't seen his parents for days. Feeny had given him chocolate-an enormous chocolate bunny. Shawn had eaten the whole thing.

Bu it wasn't the police, or the Matthews, or even Feeny who wore Shawn out so much.

It was Turner.

Turner had come to him after everybody else had gone (Shawn had insisted that Cory went home.) He had started normally enough, trying to talk about anything else except, well, the obvious subject.

Then Turner laid a hand across Shawn's back, sending spasms of pain down Shawn's spine and making Shawn tear away from Turner's grasp.

Turner looked surprised-even hurt-for a moment, then, more gently, he put a hand back across the boy's shoulder's lowering it down in a way that only caused the boy to wince.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly. Both knew what he was talking about. They were back to reality. Back to Shawn's dad.

"I didn't want you to worry." Shawn mumbled, though the excuse sounded hollow even to his ears.

Turner gently squeezed Shawn to him, careful not to upset any of the numerous cuts and bruises. "But I do worry about you." Jonathan said quietly. He bent forward and kissed the top of Shawn's head. A fatherly gesture that Shawn had only experienced a handful of times in all his years. "Which is why maybe..." his voice trailed off.

Shawn didn't want to breathe. He didn't dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be adopted once and for all. And yet, he still wanted to keep that hope. He needed to hold onto that dream of maybe.

"Maybe you could stay here. Forever. Maybe, if you want to, you'd like to be adopted. By me."

That was what made Shawn so exhausted. He had always had the insane wish that maybe Turner would adopt him. That maybe he could belong somewhere. Maybe. Maybe.

* * *

**So what did Shawn say?**

What do you think?

**I think he said no.**

Well, I'm not goning to tell you, 'cause you have to review first.


	7. I Won't Hurt You

**_I own nothing_**

**God loves, the rest of us are only good actors-Leonardo DaVinci**

Shawn stood on the steps that separated the bedrooms from the living room. He didn't know what to do, what to say, even what to think. All he knew was that he wanted-co, he _needed_ to be adopted. But things had to be taken care of first.

"Jonathan?" Shawn came up before his foster-parent, blocking his view of the TV. Turner looked up, saw Shawn's face, and turned off the football game (Giants vs. Eagles). Turner didn't say anything. He waited for Shawn to be finished.

Shawn took a deep breath. "If the offer still stands, I would love for you to be my dad."

The effect of the words could only be compared to a gunshot on a calm evening. Turner stood up, smiling broadly, words tumbling over themselves in haste as they tried to leave his mouth. Shawn held up two hands and stepped back.

"You're not going to be like Him, are you?" he asked cautiously.

These words, too, had great effect. Turner sat down and seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"Shawn, what your father did to you was cruel and unforgivable. It should have never happened, and I know how hard it must be for you to except..." his voice trailed off, he was thinking, weighing his options.

"To except that there **are** adults in the world who you can trust. I know that there are very few of those people on your list. Mr. Feeny, maybe, and the Matthews." He stopped again before saying quietly. "I want to be on that list, Shawn."

Shawn held his gaze for a second. He wanted nothing more then to throw himself into Turner's arms, but there was one more thing. "You won't hit me?"

Turner furrowed his brow. He wished that Shawn wouldn't be so blunt. "Do you think I would hit you?"

Silence. Complete silence throughout the apartment. It lasted for ten seconds. Twenty seconds. A siren wailed outside. Thirty seconds.

"No." Shawn said finally. "No, I don't think you would."

Turner held out his arms. Shawn let himself be enveloped in his arms. Few people had ever held Shawn like this-like a son or brother rather then a stupid foster kid. Turner ran his hands through Shawn's hair, feeling the bumps and cuts that covered it.

He knew that he was doing the right thing.

Shawn called Cory later that evening, when he was finally able to sit down after being so excited. No, excited wasn't the word for it. He was over-the-moon ecstatic.

"Hey, Cor." Shawn spoke into the phone. He was happy to hear the familiar voice greet him.

"I'm being adopted." Shawn looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, hearing Cory's words or congratulations. He felt whole.

* * *

Hey, you like it? I think one more chapter will do it. 


	8. Epilouge

**I just wanted to wrap things up some more.**

Shawn had nightmares for the better part of the month after he was adopted by Jonathan Turner. Mostly, it was his dad beating him. Sometimes it was Turner. A couple times it was Feeny. Once it was even Cory. It took a while for the nightmares to stop, but they finally did.

Cory, after seeing his best friend beat up for the (what was this, the eighth or ninth time?) started coming around Turner's apartment more, and the two raked up hundreds of hours playing Madden games on PlayStation 2.

Angela, a girl in Shawn's class, started noticing Shawn about two months after the adoption, but she wouldn't go on a date with him for almost two years.

Feeny, as always, was looking out for his students. He kept one of his watchful eyes on Shawn, remembering, probably, the chocolate bunny he had given to him almost ten years ago.

Turner managed (somehow) to keep up with Shawn and his ever-present mood swings. He installed a security system. It wasn't new, in fact, it was pretty beat-up, but it might protect Shawn against Chet Turner, who still hadn't been caught.

At least for a little while.

* * *

The End 


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